


Hold Fast

by wordsinbetween



Series: Kaspbrak/Hanlon 2016 [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Politics, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Pining Richie Tozier, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinbetween/pseuds/wordsinbetween
Summary: “I don’t want to talk about numbers,” Eddie says as he steps into Richie’s space, using his tie as leverage to pull himself closer. Eddie’s breath is hot on his throat now. The papers still in his hand fall to the ground, immediately forgotten.Or: President Eddie Kaspbrak has just won his reelection campaign, and he's in need of some company. Luckily, his Deputy Chief of Staff is still in the building.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Kaspbrak/Hanlon 2016 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632049
Comments: 22
Kudos: 277





	Hold Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the President Kaspbrak AU on Twitter. Come hang out with us! Sometimes I write stuff @berrkmanblock. @princesDameron draws all the REALLY good stuff. Shout-out to the discord: I love you all, this fic wouldn't be here without you.
> 
> And yes, this is essentially a very gay West Wing AU. And yes, there will be more. Probably.

Richie’s in the bullpen when the call comes in, still tracking poll numbers on the west coast with Bill. Most of the staff has long since gone home to sleep off the hell that is election week. Well, that and the champagne. 

“Richie, he’s asking for you in the residence,” Larry says, poking his head into his office. “He’s probably just wondering about the uncalled races in California and Oregon.”

He nods, standing up from his chair and finishing the rest of his beer. He feels good. They all feel good. They _won._ Hell yeah, they won! He shrugs on his suit jacket and walks towards the door, straightening out his tie as best he can, although his suit’s pretty much a lost cause at this point. He kicks at Bill’s chair as he passes. 

“Hey, you mind if I head out after this? I don’t think we’re going to hear anything new until the morning. The 47th’s going to be a nightmare. You should go get some sleep.” 

“Yeah,” Bill says, not even looking up from the papers in his lap. “Yeah, g-go ahead. I’ll wrap up here. Night, Rich.”

“We won, Billy boy,” Richie reaches down to shake some life into him, squeezing his shoulders. “Your speech really was amazing, you know. Easily one of your best yet.”

Bill ducks his head and laughs, cheeks flushed. 

“Get out of here, you really want to keep him waiting?”

“Never,” Richie says over his shoulder as he makes his way down the hall. “Somebody let the President Re-Elect know I’m on my way.”

He’s knocking on the door to the president’s bedroom five minutes later, but not before he gets Ben to give him a high five to celebrate their victory. Even stoic secret service agents get to have a little fun on election night. 

He hears _come in!_ from the other side of the door and grins at Ben one more time before walking inside. 

“Things are looking great in the west, sir,” Richie says immediately, glancing down at his notes. “It looks like we’re going to take Oregon’s fifth district. California’s probably going to take a couple more hours, so—” 

He stops talking when he notices Eddie’s still facing the window, empty champagne flute in his hand. He draws the curtains shut before turning around to face Richie. 

“Uh, so,” Richie stumbles over his words. He shifts on his feet as Eddie silently walks over to him. “It’s looking like we’re going to keep solid control of the House, even if we lose three or four of the races they haven’t called yet—” 

Eddie stops a foot in front of him. The words die in Richie’s throat when he sees the look in his eyes. His tie is long gone, the top button of his shirt open and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Richie forgets how to breathe when suddenly Eddie runs his hand down his tie and then back up again. He tugs the knot loose and finally meets Richie’s gaze. _Fuck._ He’s so screwed.

“I don’t want to talk about numbers,” Eddie says as he steps into Richie’s space, using his tie as leverage to pull himself closer. Eddie’s breath is hot on his throat now. The papers still in his hand fall to the ground, immediately forgotten. 

“Maybe we should talk about—” His protest sounds weak to his own ears, and then Eddie’s pushing Richie’s jacket off his shoulders and all he can think about is how badly he’s wanted this. How _long_ he’s wanted this.

“I’m tired of talking,” Eddie whispers, tracing the edge of his jaw with his finger. Richie feels his face burning. “All I want to think about is you.”

“Sir—” he says out of habit, even though it comes out a soft whine, his breath heavy in the thin space between them. Eddie’s thumb runs over his bottom lip. 

“Richie.” He’s heard Eddie say his name a million times but he’s never said it like _that._

“Eddie,” he finally says, leaning into the hand that’s on his cheek now. He tentatively lifts his own hand, hesitating for a few seconds before his fingers make contact with Eddie’s neck, palm settling against his skin. He feels Eddie’s sigh on his lips. Richie feels like he’s on fire. 

His head is buzzing from the election and the alcohol; from the proximity. He knows he has to choose what’s going to happen next right this second. Then he feels Eddie’s fingers flex on his cheek, just enough that he knows it means he’s being given permission. That Eddie _wants_ this. Wants him. 

So he leans down and kisses him, a shiver running down his spine as Eddie’s tongue immediately pushes against his lips. Eddie’s hand moves to the back of his neck and pulls him closer, until they’re pressed together at the hips. Richie can’t help but moan, wrapping both his arms tight around his waist. He shoves his thigh between Eddie’s legs and shivers when he rocks against him, rubbing himself on Richie’s leg. 

He has to break away to catch his breath, but he doesn’t let go. Eddie doesn’t loosen his grip either, just drops his head to kiss his jawline, then his neck; wet, open-mouthed kisses that drive Richie crazy but don’t leave a mark. He wants him to. God _,_ does he want him to. Without thinking, he takes a step forward, backing Eddie towards the bed. He stops after two steps, breath caught in his throat. But then Eddie’s lifting his head away from his neck, just enough to say: “Please.”

He lifts Eddie’s chin to kiss him again as soon as he hears it, backing them towards the bed as he pulls off his tie and manages to kick off his shoes. Eddie’s legs hit the side of the bed and Richie’s absolutely helpless, Eddie’s hand tight on his hip as he guides them down. Then there’s a leg wrapped around him, heel pressing into the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, closer. 

Richie feels Eddie struggling to undo the buttons on his shirt so he pulls away with a frustrated groan, unbuttoning it as quickly as he can before working on Eddie’s. He tosses both shirts off the side of the bed and lets himself be pulled down for another kiss, Eddie licking his way into his mouth. He can’t help but moan when he feels Eddie’s bare chest against his. 

Eddie reaches for his glasses as they slide down the sweat on his face again, but Richie stops him. "No, I want to see you."

Eddie stares up at him, chest heaving and flushed red even in the dim light. He lets go of the glasses and pulls him back down, kisses him so deeply, so attentively, that Richie can’t help but moan into his mouth. He presses Eddie deeper into the mattress, using his whole weight, grinding his hips down even harder when the fingers on his hip dig deeper, so deep he knows they’ll leave a bruise.

Richie runs both hands down his sides, and the way Eddie arches into the touch drives him mad. He slips his fingers under his waistband, reaching for the belt with his other hand, but not before reaching down to palm him where he’s straining against the front of his pants. Eddie gasps against his mouth and tosses his head back onto the pillow; Richie takes the opportunity to kiss the underside of his jaw, sliding down just enough to roughly kiss his neck.

“Richie, please,” he gasps again when Richie tugs at the belt as teasingly as he can manage. It’s hard to restrain himself when Eddie’s a mess underneath him, responding to every touch so desperately it’s like he can’t help it.

“Fuck,” is all he can say, voice rough as he hides his face against Eddie’s neck and unbuckles the belt as quickly as he can. 

He shoves his hand inside as soon as he’s got the zipper down, wrapping his fingers around the base of Eddie’s cock and tugging slowly. It draws a deep moan out of Eddie and it’s such an intoxicating sound that Richie does it again and again, twisting his wrist as his thumb sweeps across the head. Eddie’s mumbling a nonsensical string of words now, punctuated by _fuck_ and _please_ and _don’t stop,_ but what gets him is the way he says Richie’s name, over and over and over. A thought breaks through the fog in his mind, a voice that says maybe they shouldn’t make so much noise, but then Eddie thrusts up into his fist and he feels his cock drag against his stomach and suddenly he doesn’t give a fuck if anybody hears them. 

He lifts himself up, leaning on his forearm so he can bite at Eddie’s lip, drawing him in for another kiss. Eddie wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him close even as he pulls away, panting against him as Richie starts to pull at his cock more frantically. 

“Wait, stop,” Eddie says, even as he thrusts against Richie’s stomach again, rubbing himself against his soft skin and the soft hair that trails down there. “I want to touch you.” 

Now it’s Richie’s turn to curse, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubs himself against Eddie’s thigh, his rhythm faltering. He forces himself to stop, dragging his palm against the underside of his cock one last time before pulling his hand away completely. Eddie’s hips lift up off the bed until their stomachs press together, his cock trapped between them, leaking against their stomachs. It’s so much, it’s _too_ much, that he can’t help but reach down and try to unbutton his pants, seeking relief.

Except Eddie’s pushing at his shoulder now, pulling at him until he relents and lets himself be shoved onto his side. He only has the chance to miss the feeling of Eddie’s body against him for a few seconds, until suddenly Eddie’s tucking his face against his neck and shoving Richie’s hand aside so he can unzip his pants himself. 

“Fuck—” he bites out when Eddie takes him in his hand immediately, pulling roughly once, twice. He can’t catch his breath, so overwhelmed that all he can do is hold on; his hand runs over Eddie’s ribs down to his hip, fingers gripping tight, desperate for the anchor. 

He feels Eddie’s mouth latch onto the point where his shoulder curves up into his neck, sucking hard at his skin as he jerks him off at a pace Richie can hardly keep up with. 

“Eddie,” he finally manages to say, throat raw as he calls out his name. “You gotta tell me what you— _fuck_ , what you want, I don’t know how much longer I can last like this, Eds—” 

He feels Eddie’s face turn, feels him nip at his jawline before pressing a kiss that’s so soft to the same spot that Richie thinks his heart might burst right out of his chest for a whole different reason now. 

“I want you to come for me.”

“Fuck, Eddie, that’s so—” Richie wraps his hand around both of them. 

“I want you to come on me,” Eddie moans, breath hot against his throat. 

Richie’s mind goes blank. He twists his wrist again and it makes Eddie moan just like it did earlier, so he does it again, thrusts up against him at the same time. Eddie shudders against him, leg moving restlessly against his as he tries to draw himself even closer. They’re so tangled together that Richie doesn’t know where he begins and Eddie ends.

“Your hands are so fucking—shit—” 

“They’re so what,” Richie manages to say around a gasp, biting his lip as he tries to his hardest to last. 

“They’re so fucking _big_ , they drive me _crazy_ —”

Richie shifts suddenly so he can kiss him, bruising his own lips in the process, but the implication that Eddie’s _thought about this,_ that he’s thought about Richie touching him is too much to take. He lets go of Eddie’s cock and thrusts desperately into his own fist, breaking away from the kiss so he can open his eyes, looking down in time to see himself come all over Eddie’s stomach. 

He sags against Eddie until he finally catches his breath, leaning up to kiss him again as he reaches for Eddie’s hand until their fingers slide together. He leans into the kiss until Eddie’s lying on his back again, pliant beneath him even though he’s still achingly hard. He feels Eddie start to reach for himself, so he pins his other hand down, too.

“Please,” Eddie says against his lips, a hushed pleading sound.

“Okay,” is all he says, kissing him one more time before sliding down the bed. He kisses his chest, his stomach, licking at the sweat gathered on his skin. Tastes himself on Eddie’s skin and feels him hard against his collarbone as he lingers, enjoying the way Eddie’s breath hitches every time the stubble on his chin drags across his sensitive skin.

“Richie, you’re so—” Eddie starts to say, and that’s when he finally reaches for him, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock.

He has to let go of one of Eddie’s hands to pin his hips to the bed, savoring the heavy feel of him against his tongue, doing his best to take his time even though it’s clearly driving Eddie to the edge already. He wraps his hand around the base and squeezes as he takes him deeper, sucking harder until he feels Eddie fingers tugging gently at his hair. He moves his hand up until he can splay his fingers over his stomach, moaning when Eddie twitches under his touch. He feels him react immediately, thrusting sharply into his mouth, fingers cradling the back of his head. He hears him start to try and apologize, so he just pulls back up, running his tongue over the tip before swallowing him down again.

Eddie gets the hint and starts to fuck his mouth like he means it, until he’s clutching at Richie’s hair and mumbling nonsense that mostly consists of _Richie you feel so fucking good_ and _fuck fuck fuck_ and _I’m so close, I’m gonna—_ Eddie tugs at his hair, warning him, giving him a chance to pull away, but he leans into it. He moans as Eddie’s hips stutter and push desperately into his face as he comes.

He wipes at his lips with the back of his hand as he moves back up the bed. He brushes sweat-damp hair away from Eddie’s eyes; his heart feels light when he turns to kiss Richie’s palm. Any resolve he has left to keep his emotions out of this pretty much goes out the window when Eddie draws him in for another kiss. 

“Hey,” Richie says, smiling when he notices Eddie can hardly keep his eyes open anymore. “Just a second, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Richie climbs off the bed and stumbles his way into the bathroom, hitting the light switch with a little more force than necessary. He turns on the sink and avoids his reflection in the mirror as he waits for the water to warm up, twisting the dry washcloth in his hands. Like if he sees himself, if he sees the evidence of what just happened on his skin, then that will make it real. Like it’ll be harder to forget. As if he’ll ever be able to forget this. Yeah, right.

He takes off his glasses and rinses his face once the water’s warm enough. He shoves the washcloth under the faucet and then wipes himself down, turning off the light on his way back to the bed. He half expected Eddie to be asleep, but he watches Richie walk towards him, looks up at him so openly when he stops next to the bed. 

“Um.” Suddenly he doesn’t know what to do next. He holds out the washcloth. “Here.”

Eddie sits up and takes it from him, wiping down his stomach. Richie feels himself flush just watching him. But then Eddie tosses the washcloth on the floor and reaches down to pull the comforter up to his hips; he clearly took off his pants while Richie was in the other room. Eddie in tight briefs with wrinkled sheets pooled around his legs is truly a sight to behold. Richie doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he _wants_ to do. Eddie makes the decision for him. 

“Come lie down,” Eddie says, and that’s all it takes. 

Richie steps out of his own wrinkled, ruined pants and climbs under the covers. Eddie turns onto his side and Richie happily wraps himself around him, holding him tight against his chest. Eddie falls asleep within minutes. Richie tries to stay awake, tries to memorize how soft Eddie looks when he’s sleeping, the way his hair looks when it starts to curl at the ends. He falls asleep shortly after, his face tucked against Eddie’s neck.

~

Richie wakes up when the first hint of grey morning light starts to filter through the curtains. Eddie’s still in his arms, but sometime in the night he had turned himself around. Now he’s curled up against Richie’s chest, using his arm as a pillow. Their legs are hopelessly tangled together. Richie never wants to move. 

He squints at the clock on the nightstand; it’s just past six. _Fuck_ . A lot of the staff will be rolling in later than usual today, but he’s in the _residence._ There’s only so many ways he can sneak back into the west wing wearing yesterday’s suit, looking like he definitely just rolled out of bed. 

As soon as he considers how best to extract himself from Eddie, he starts to stir in his arms. He stretches against him and hides his face under Richie’s neck, the back of his hand warm where it’s resting against his stomach. He has to squeeze his eyes shut against the urge to beg for Eddie to touch him again, one last time. He knows this is it. This is all they’ll ever have. 

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Eddie says, breaking the silence. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, taking his words as permission to lean down and kiss him. (One last time.)

He lets himself kiss Eddie until he goes dizzy with it, until he’s balanced precariously on the edge, one step away from losing himself in it. He pulls away with a gasp, sitting up and pushing the blankets off. He’s breathing so hard it almost hurts. Fuck. _Fuck._ He has to—

“I have to go.” He’s already off the bed. “Where’s my phone? Shit.” 

“Richie,” Eddie says. The sleep is gone from his voice. He sounds like himself again. He sounds like the pr—he sounds like himself again.

“It’s fine,” he says, though he’s not really sure why. He finds his phone in his pants pocket and quickly opens up his texts. He clicks on Ben’s name (well, Agent Handsome, actually) and taps out _are you still on duty?? please say yes_ while praying autocorrect saves him today of all days as he tries to put on his pants at the same time. His phone buzzes in his hand almost immediately. Thank God. 

_Yes, but only for another hour. Knock when you’re ready. I don’t want to know a single detail, Tozier._

_yeah whatever just a sec okay_

He throws on his shirt and buttons it up, shaking his head as he tries to smooth out the wrinkles. It’s a useless attempt. Luckily he’s got a spare shirt in his office; he just has to _get_ to his office without drawing too much attention. He disappears into the bathroom for his glasses. 

“I’m sorry, Richie,” Eddie says from the bed after he walks back out into the bedroom. He’s sitting up. Watching him. Richie stops in his tracks. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Richie says after a moment. He leans down to pick up his jacket, his tie. He shoves his feet into his shoes. 

“Yes, I do. It was a mistake,” Eddie says. 

Richie forgets how to breathe. “Right. Yeah. A mistake. I’ll, uh. I’ll talk to you later.” 

He hurries towards the door, knocking twice on the wood. It feels too loud. It feels like his ears are buzzing. _It was a mistake._

Ben opens the door and Richie walks back to the West Wing with his head down the entire way. 


End file.
